


Martel: meet not just one but THREE gods

by rarmaster



Series: don't you worry child [10]
Category: Kingdom Hearts, Super Mario Galaxy, Tales of Symphonia, Xenoblade Chronicles
Genre: CAN YOU BELIEVE HE'S REAL, Fiora Did Not Know Meyneth Was Alvis' Mom And Doesn't Know How To Cope, Gen, Massive Crossover AU, Teens being teens, also do i spot some LORE in this fic, also fitting ish for this to go up right after ontos confirmed, incredible! we're actually getting hints of an overarching PLOT!!!!!, martel being paranoid, tfw you were keeping secrets from your bodysharing partner, three ftpcast in a team just chillin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:21:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23366116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rarmaster/pseuds/rarmaster
Summary: Martel contemplates this kid she just befriended (??) and also her place in the universe. Meyneth learns her other children are alive and well. Rosalina actually explains some of what's going on, here. Kairi and her friends are just along for the ride.Or: Team Starlight meets. DYWC.
Relationships: Alvis & Meyneth
Series: don't you worry child [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1414204
Kudos: 9





	Martel: meet not just one but THREE gods

**Author's Note:**

> housekeeping: it's probably obvious, but Martel's from ToS vanilla (and not YWKON, amazingly) and also from the Kharlan era, ages before she died :)
> 
> Kairi, as well as Joseph and Kano, are from FtPverse. you can read a basic rundown of ftpverse [here](https://rarsneezes.dreamwidth.org/24351.html) if you think you need it, and subsequently can find brief descriptions of the entire DYWC cast [here](https://rarsneezes.dreamwidth.org/4030.html?style=site) if you want that for any reason. UPDATE: and now i have character profile pages for everyone in the dywc cast!!! all of Team Starlight's pages can be found [here](https://dywc.dreamwidth.org/tag/team+starlight)
> 
> finally [here's](https://twitter.com/rarsneezes/status/1243390195413614592) a doodle of Joseph in the outfit he's wearing for this fic becuase it was haunting me

Let it be known, Martel Yggdrasill prides herself on not panicking. Absolutely not, no sir, Martel Yggdrasill has never in her life panicked over something that did not warrant panicking over. She has a healthy level of paranoia—of course she does, all half-elves do—but she certainly is not about to _lose her head_ over trivial things.

Finding herself somewhere she doesn’t recognize, none of her family in sight, _completely alone,_ well—that’s a warranted reason to panic.

Not that she’s panicking, of course. No, she absolutely isn’t panicking. She’s just very worried and would like to get a better lay of the land and figure out _where_ she is and _how_ she’s meant to get back and—she dares not think about Mithos, because fourteen or not he’s not _defenseless,_ and Kratos and Yuan should still be with him, and- it’s fine. She just has to find them.

Except Martel gets barely that thought through her head she stands up and _really_ takes in her surroundings, and stops completely.

First, the unexciting things: She stands a little ways away from the shoreline of what appears to be a sea contained in a basin, sheer mountain walls rising up in every direction, grass starting at the walls and petering off into sand the closer it gets to the water. Martel currently stands on the grass, her back to the wall behind her, eyes fixed on the structure built _above_ the water.

Not _on_ the water, no. _Above._ By several hundred feet, _above,_ floating, suspended by some kind of technology with which Martel is not familiar. She’s seen, only once, any kind of structures suspended as if by nothing—at the Slyph’s temple, but those structures were all much smaller, platforms to walk across, held up with wind and mana that only hadn’t depleted from the area thanks to the War because of the Slyph living nearby, powering the mechanisms that kept their buildings afloat with their own power. But these structures before Martel… she cannot see any carefully placed wind vents, nor fathom how they could hold up a structure the size of a _large city,_ nor the chunks of earth itself that float seemingly unaided like a chain of small islands in the sea, _above the sea._ What kind of magic…?

The mana here tastes all wrong, though. There’s _plenty_ of it, and maybe that’s a contributing factor to whatever it is that keeps all these islands afloat, but it’s not _mana._ Not as Martel knows it. Instead of green trees and fauna it tastes a little more like iron and faintly of blood, and…

“Whoa…” comes a voice, young, from beside her, and Martel jumps.

She swings her attention to the voice, finds a child standing next to her, his neck craned so he can stare at the same structures that had Martel so transfixed. He looks to be about Mithos’ age, though that’s probably a hard judgement, since human-fourteen and half-elf-fourteen can look vastly different depending on the half-elf, considering how half-elves age in fits and starts, often plateauing to look much younger than they are for several years. Still. Somewhere around fourteen, maybe a little younger. His hair’s the same length as Mithos’, too, though his is black instead of blonde. And his clothes are unlike anything Martel has ever seen: an open jacket with the sleeves rolled up, without seeming to have any buttons, worn over what Martel first thinks is a tunic before she realizes its two separate pieces. A shirt with writing on it in a language Martel doesn’t know, and a skirt that cuts off just above his knees.

Martel finds that her hands have tightened so firmly around her staff that they’re starting to _ache,_ and she forcibly makes herself relax. She is not panicking. No, absolutely not, a _child_ is no reason to panic, even if they are human, and… Martel cannot say with any certainty that he _is_ human, anyway.

His mana, if you could call it mana, tastes wildly different than that of any human Martel has ever known.

But it doesn’t taste like a half-elf’s mana, either, nor an elf’s.

Interesting.

Oh, how long has he been talking?

“…where the people are, like I know we’re down below but surely there should be _some_ of the people from that city down here doing things, unless it’s not safe to be down here? I dunno, seems pretty safe to me, like weirdly safe, like—” And as if he assumes she’s been listening the whole time, he turns to Martel, his blue-grey eyes bright and his expression scrunched like he’s working out a particularly difficult problem: “What do you think?” he asks her.

“What,” Martel says, eloquently.

“I,” he says, and then he laughs. “You weren’t listening, were you?” he asks, with a faux-disappointment that suggests he’s used to this, the tone leaning more towards a teasing scolding than anywhere near actual upset. He’s even got his hands on his hips for a moment, as he leans towards her.

“No,” Martel admits. She doesn’t apologize though.

“That’s fair,” he laughs. “This whole…” he gestures broadly at the floating islands in lieu of using any words, “is kind of a lot to take in! Which is why I was babbling about it haha, but um. I guess since you weren’t listening we should probably start somewhere less obnoxious than my weird unimportant question—actually it wasn’t _that_ unimportant I think so maybe we’ll swing back to it—and we’ll start! With names!!” He thrusts a hand out towards her. “I’m Joseph, it’s nice to meet you!”

…and she thought Mithos didn’t shut up.

“Martel,” she answers, but she doesn’t shake his hand. He blinks at that, and then shrugs like he doesn’t care, and drops his hand back to his side. The not-human-not-elf taste of his not-mana is driving her nuts, and while she should probably just leave it be, she finds her mouth asking: “Are you human?”

Joseph blinks at the question, and then he laughs.

“Um, that’s a really weird question out of nowhere like that, but I guess we are in a world I’ve never seen before and how should I know what species _you_ are, maybe this is a world where there are options other than human!! But uh!! Where was I.” He’s so distracted by his question that it takes him a moment of squinting out to the sea to find his train of thought again. Martel would gently remind him if she wasn’t a little embarrassed they were on this topic to begin with. “Oh yeah! No I’m not human though since: whatever it’ll probably come up and I don’t see the point pretending. I’m a Replica!”

He says the word like it means something. It means absolutely nothing to Martel.

“A Replica…?” she repeats, slow and curious.

Joseph nods, enthusiastic. “Yeah! It’s, uh- a thing where I’m from. I’d say world but it’s not really limited to one world and I’m staaaaarting to think that maybe I’m in another universe probably maybe?” He shoves his hair out of his face in a mirror of an action Martel has seen Kratos do before, though on the opposite side. It’s not _quite_ as long as Kratos’ is, but definitely long enough that this is probably a problem Joseph has a lot. “Anyway!! It’s like. Hm. I dunno do you know _anything_ about like, cloning? That’s a thing in a lot of scifi novels right. Do you even have novels here…?”

Yes she has novels, no she has no idea what scifi means, and cloning she answers by giving Joseph a blank stare.

“……right,” he says. “Uh. So like I mean I don’t know a lot about how sex works and I’m sure I wouldn’t have to tell you anyway haha but you know how two people can get together and like make a kid? Because that’s how sex works?” This… sure is a conversation Martel is having right now. And, _Spirits,_ Joseph just _keeps going:_ “Because it’s something something about combining two people’s DNA or whatever and again _I don’t really know how sex works_ but the thing about combining DNA is like—okay so imagine that except it was done with a computer and I was made by a computer, with data, and… a little bit of magic I think? I don’t honestly know how creating a Replica works down to the scientific level either but long story short no I’m not human, PHEW.”

Well, Martel supposes that makes sense.

And Joseph doesn’t seem bothered as to having been asked, so Martel also supposes it’s worth her peace of mind. ( _It’s stupid, incredibly stupid, that she relaxes at all just knowing he isn’t human, because he_ is _just a kid and it’s not like_ Kratos _isn’t human but nonetheless Martel feels she can breathe a little easier, knowing Joseph isn’t one of the race that has persecuted her so terribly._ )

“Is this… common, where you’re from?” she asks. He’d said… world? Universe? Martel is wildly out of her element, here. If Joseph is, he doesn’t show it.

“Oh, no!” he laughs. “Replicas? There’s like—uhh…” He pauses a second to clearly do some math, not that it requires counting on his fingers or anything. Just squinting out into space for a few bit. “Like, fifty of us. Which I realize is actually a lot but it’s not like, a _significant_ population or anything, I think.”

“I suppose not,” Martel agrees. Enough to make a town, sure, but not enough to be considered a major race on… whatever world Joseph is from.

“Are you from here?” Joseph asks, almost as soon as Martel is done talking.

Martel shakes her head. “No I’m from… another world,” she answers.

“Oh, me too! Which I think I said? I might have said. I say a lot of things.” Joseph laughs to himself, grinning like he’s part of a joke.

“You aren’t… worried about getting home?” Martel asks, somewhat surprised. She’s had no real, lengthy interaction with any kids who aren’t Mithos, so she has no idea if Joseph’s whole completely-unbothered-about-everything deal is… _normal_ , or… Again, she isn’t sure. Mithos might have this carefree attitude if he were here, but _only_ if he wasn’t alone. Take him away from herself, or Kratos, or Yuan? He’d be way more anxious and paranoid.

“Well I assume I’m here for a reason, because that’s how this whole getting-dragged-somewhere-unexpectedly thing _usually_ works,” Joseph answers. “I don’t mind sticking around a while to see what’s up, what I’m needed for, or… just exploring, to be honest!! This place looks _really_ cool, and I want to figure out what’s up with that city??” He’s bouncing with an energy that suggests he wants to start moving towards it, but is staying rooted in place—probably to be polite and not leave Martel behind…? Oh, that’s sweet of him. “Like there’s gotta be people here, right,” he keeps talking, and Martel supposes she _could_ tune him out, but she’s used to listening to someone ramble for ages, even if Mithos only gets quite like this when he’s got something he’s _particularly_ interested in. “I was wondering about it earlier since you’d expect to see a person or two on a beach as nice as this but I guess it makes sense that they’d stay in their city if they built it like that? So we’ll _have_ to check it out, see what’s up.”

Well, if Martel wants information on anything, a city isn’t a bad place to start, even if being a lone half-elf woman in a city spells trouble more often than it doesn’t. Unfortunately with hair like hers she can’t really pass as human, though. Human hair just doesn’t _come_ in green. Still… she can handle herself. Of course she can. Whatever powers were granted to her and her family once they equipped the cruxis crystals means that honestly the thought of someone seriously hurting her or locking her up is laughable. Besides, if this _is_ a different world, maybe the half-elf thing doesn’t matter.

…Yeah, no, better not get her hopes up there. Plan for the worst. The rest can be a pleasant surprise.

“The city sounds like a good idea,” Martel agrees. And then since there’s no reason to let some fourteen-year-old lead her around, she starts walking that direction. Not that she can see a _bridge_ to it, but certainly if they get closer, there will be a more obvious way up.

“Oh, and hey, while we’re walking can I ask you an onion,” Joseph says.

Martel turns to him, blinking in surprise again. Apparently, he’s never going to start making complete sense.

“Oh, sorry!! By onion I mean opinion, haha.”

Oh.

“Yes, I suppose so,” Martel says, somewhat concerned.

“Y’think it’s weird that there’s no wildlife?” Joseph asks.

And, oh, yes, actually. Now that Joseph mentions it. There’s no bird song, Martel realizes, no distant rustle in the distant grass or the trees, no… well, nothing. It’s empty. It’s silent, minus the water hitting the shore.

“That… _is_ weird,” Martel agrees.

“See that’s why I’m not fully convinced there’s people here, though I _hope_ there are,” Joseph says, taking a breath like he’s winding up for another long rant. “Like I passed something that looked kind of like a nest back there—” he jerks his thumb over his shoulder in the general direction; Martel looks, but they’re too far for her to see it, “—but it was totally empty? And you’d think an empty nest would look _destroyed_ or something, but it honestly looked like someone had built it yesterday, which is weird? Like. If it was built yesterday… there should still be an animal around for it, you know?”

“That’s worrying, actually,” Martel says, walking a little slower, squinting at the trees and then the sea, looking for a threat.

“Worrying?” Joseph asks.

“If the animals all left, suddenly…” Martel begins in explanation, but she doesn’t have to finish. Joseph is quick at following her train of thought.

“Oh, yeah, then something scared them off,” Joseph finishes. “Dunno where _to—_ oh.”

He stops short, and so does Martel, the moment she sees what Joseph sees.

It’s a woman—though woman probably isn’t the right term. A _Spirit,_ Martel thinks, immediately, considering the woman is one: much larger than them; two: floating off the ground so her feet don’t touch it; three: _gives off mana as only a Spirit does._ The air is thick with it, the power gathering around the woman immense, unfathomable; only _Spirits_ hold that much power.

Without thinking, Martel drops to her knees and bows her head. She knows her manners.

“Oh,” Joseph says, and Martel has half a mind to yank him down to his knees too but he is just far enough away that it’d be awkward, and he’s _talking,_ anyway: “Sorry, should I do that, too? Um, Your Majesty—is it ‘Your Majesty’? I forget if that’s for princesses or queens and actually I don’t know which you are or if you care…?”

Martel is mortified, just a little. She lifts her head because though she has manners she is also curious to a fault, and she has to see how the Spirit they are talking to takes this offense. The Spirit… _is_ wearing a crown, Martel notes; a pale silver thing set upon pale blonde hair that covers one of the Spirit’s impossibly blue eyes, blue like the stars themselves, deep and perfect. The long, pale blue dress that the Spirit wears, in contrast, is simple, unassuming. It does not draw attention to itself, does not compete with the Spirit’s aura.

The Spirit does not look angry, to Martel’s surprise. Instead she laughs into her hand, motherly in all the ways Martel barely remembers.

“It’s alright, there’s no need for titles,” she assures Joseph. “Or for bowing, either,” she chides Martel, gently. Blushing, Martel rises to her feet. She pushes her staff into the ground and grips it tight to steady her trembling knees. “You can call me Rosalina.”

“I’m Joseph!” Joseph says, bright, raising a hand in a mock solute that becomes a short wave halfway through.

Rosalina laughs again. “I know,” she says.

Martel’s stomach flip-flops. Joseph just says “oh!” brightly, grinning even wider. “Hey—do you know where we are? Or…”

“Who are you,” Martel asks, quiet, mouth dry. She does not quite mean to say it, but she is at least grateful she did not rudely ask _what_ instead of _who_. “Please, I’m…” To be in the presence of a Spirit and not know its domain is terrifying, especially since the way the mana around Rosalina sings implies that her domain is vast, much more vast than any Spirit Martel has ever met before. ( _But then, she has never met Origin in person, not yet. Maybe being in front of him would also make her knees this weak._ )

Rosalina sighs, just softly. “I don’t exist in the way Spirits do in your world, Martel, I’m something else entirely, but…” There’s a sadness in her eyes, in the smile of her lips. “If we must do titles, then some call me Mother of the Cosmos. And… it is true.” The smile gets fonder, so does her laugh, eyes twinkling. “Many of the galaxies _are_ my children. Not all. The universe is much bigger than that, but…”

“Oh holy crap are you _sure_ you don’t want me bowing?” Joseph asks, delighted and looking properly awe-struck, finally. Martel busies herself with remembering how to breathe.

Rosalina laughs again. “No, it’s quite alright,” she assures them. “I’ll explain everything to you in a moment, we need to locate the rest of your team. It would be silly to give the explanation twice, and they aren’t far.” She smiles at them, warm, and the nods her head and starts moving. “Follow me.”

Seeing as she is being addressed by a _literal goddess,_ Martel doesn’t see how she has a choice in this.

Rosalina leads them first to a piece of machinery on a tiny little ledge above the further end of the beach, silver metal placed into the ground, a circle with… no runes, but circles of pulsating light, and a single thin archway above the circle. The half of the circle closest to the beach has a little railing, and affixed to the railing is a button. As soon as everyone is standing on the circle, Rosalina presses the button.

And quite suddenly they are all standing somewhere else.

“Oh cool teleportation,” Joseph whispers under his breath at a somewhat loud volume, and Martel blinks several times as she gets her bearings. That’s… some incredible magic.

There’s a few more of these teleportation things, and then Rosalina leads them into the city, and it is a _grand_ city, all metal and stone encased in a glass dome, staircases that move so all you have to do is stand still and it will carry you upward, and _Spirits_ does the city go _upward._ There’s a large castle set against the blue sky, towering above them all.

There are no people.

Martel notices that right away of course, because it is difficult to _not_ notice that a city is completely barren of people. She relaxes somewhat, which she then feels guilty about, because seeing as she is traveling with _apparently a goddess,_ a goddess who knows her name and seems fond of her, Martel of course is not in any danger, _certainly_ not from some racist humans who want her in chains for the mere crime of existing.

But then, the lack of a crowd and perhaps the glass dome means that when there is shouting and laughter above it is heard loud and clear, and Joseph—

“HeyIknowthosepeople!!” he declares in a rush, and then he’s gone, shouting names as he runs up the moving stairs so that he reaches his destination faster, skirting to the left and towards a little grouping of trees and grass. Before Martel and Rosalina reach there ( _and how embarrassing, that a goddess slow her pace to match Martel!_ ) Martel hears Joseph’s name called back, and then some more laughter, and then…

A group of three humans. Or. Two humans—only a few years older than Joseph—and a young woman who is… That body is metal, and though it is very good at being shaped with exactly human proportions, only the head appears to be flesh and blood; strawberry blonde hair cut short to allow for the metal to cradle her all the way up to the base of her skull. Martel frankly doesn’t know how to feel about this, but she doesn’t have to make up her mind because Joseph is waving her over.

“Martel! Martel come meet my friends!!” he says, brightly, his arm wrapped around the shoulders of a girl with red hair and skin absolutely covered with freckles. She’s taller than him, but he’s doing a good job at dragging her down to his height, and she only laughs. “This is Kairi!” he introduces, gesturing to the girl. Then he jabs his thumb in the direction of the boy standing next to him. “And this is Kano, don’t mind him, he’s always a grump, _especially_ when Sora’s not around.”

“Hey,” Kano protests, sharp, in the exact tone Yuan always protests similar claims made about him. Kano’s hair is black and stands up at angles that rival Kratos’ mess, and his eyes are a sharp gold, which takes Martel by surprise enough that she notices it. He and Kairi both wear clothes similar to Joseph, which Martel supposes makes sense, if they all come from the same place.

“And I’m Fiora,” the metal girl introduces, waving. Her smile is confused, but good natured. “I’ve only just met everyone else. Did Joseph say your name was Martel?” she asks, then stops, looking between Martel and Rosalina. “Which… one of you is Martel, actually.”

“I am,” Martel says, still gripping her staff too tightly to wave, but she nods her head.

“It’s nice to meet you, I’m sorry if Joseph talked your ear off,” Kairi says, gently shoving Joseph off of her.

“No you aren’t,” Joseph laughs.

“No, I’m not, but geeze you’ve—”

“—known her two minutes and talked _our_ ears off,” Kano whines, glaring. Kairi sends him a look like she can’t decide if she likes or hates that he finished her sentence.

“Also _that’s_ Rosalina,” Joseph says, and then dramatically stage whispers to his friends: “ _I think she’s like a literal goddess so like maybe behave_.”

“Oh holy shit _what_ ,” Kairi says somewhere between mortified and delighted, while Kano just rolls his eyes.

“Oh,” Fiora says, making eye-contact with Rosalina. “You’re…” She begins, and Rosalina nods. Fiora slowly points to herself. “And… you know about…” Fiora asks, and Rosalina nods again. Fiora’s expression has gone from playful to serious, weighty, and in that moment Martel realizes that the mana gathering around Fiora is _also_ basically godlike. It’s a little offset, a little distant, but it’s still _there,_ and…

“Is this about Meyneth?” Kairi asks, looking between the two women.

Fiora nods, absently. Martel recognizes that questioning people with this much power is probably a foolish move but she really wants answers and _dammit_ she’s tired of playing nice.

“Who’s Meyneth?” Martel asks.

“Oh, right,” Fiora says, and she doesn’t sound offended, at least. She just sounds like a girl. “Well, this will probably sound a little weird, but… She’s inside my head. I mean, she’s a _real_ person, but she’s… I guess we’re sharing this body? I was chosen as a vessel for her and… Well she’s one of the gods of this world. Specifically of the Mechonis, not Bionis,” Fiora adds, as an afterthought, and her gaze turns to her right, staring to the distance for a second. Martel has a feeling her eyes _aren’t_ fixed on the wall next to her, or even the palace in the distance. Something beyond, maybe?

Joseph squeaks, elbowing Kairi. “Hey!! You could have told me _your_ friend was also a goddess!!”

Fiora laughs before Kairi can answer. “Oh, no, _I’m_ not, Meyneth is!” she insists. “And Meyenth’s not… I mean, she’s pretty cool, so don’t worry about being all stiff around her. It’s alright, really. But… I _do_ have a question for you. Rosalina, right? This… _is_ Alcamoth, isn’t it?” she asks, and gestures to the empty city around them. “So where is everyone?”

“It isn’t Alcamoth as you know it,” Rosalina explains, gently. “It’s a memory of it. At least… I think that’s how Alvis would explain it.”

“Who?” Kairi demands, like she can’t stand not knowing.

And in that very same second: “ _Alvis!?_ ” Fiora demands, as if she’s about to choke on her surprise. “What’s he got to do with anything—” she starts, and then realization washes across her face, and when she speaks again her voice is a little lower, a little heavier, not her voice at all: “Oh, this would be all his doing, wouldn’t it…” she muses. “What is he _thinking_? We were just about to… For all that Egil is right, if we allow him to continue his assault on the Bionis for any longer…”

After a second or so more of muttering to herself—at which Joseph has slapped his hand over Kairi’s mouth to prevent her from asking questions—Fiora, or rather, Meyneth, fixes her gaze on Rosalina again.

“Is Alvis here?” she asks. “Can I speak with him?”

“You can, at some point,” Rosalina says, gentle, and for all that she is talking to another goddess her tone is fond and friendly. “But I will admit getting a hold of him is hard, even for his siblings, and they have a much more direct means of contacting him compared to—”

“ _Siblings?”_ Meyneth interjects. “Since when did he—?” she begins in a tone that might be Fiora’s, but that cuts off, too. “Logos and Pneuma, we thought we’d never… They’re _here_?”

“Not… going by those names, but yes.”

“That’s fair, I suppose Alvis isn’t going by Ontos anymore, either.”

“Can we please get an explanation,” Kairi asks, having pried Joseph’s hand off of her mouth. Honestly, Martel would also like one; and it’s funny, she thinks, because if Mithos were here he _would_ be asking those questions and she’d be encouraging him, so she’s not sure why she’s so hesitant to ask.

In fact, she’s tired of being so out of her element.

“Yes, actually,” she agrees, drawing herself up and setting her shoulders. Yes, she has to grip her staff to not buckle under the weight of being around two presences so _strong,_ but it’s not about what’s going on inside her head that matters. It’s about the image she presents. “I would also appreciate an explanation or three. At _least_ regarding where we are and how we got here, never mind _what_ we’re doing here!”

“And how we can get home?” Kano asks, hopefully. “That’d also be a nice thing to know.”

Joseph laughs like Kano’s being stupid, or rather, forgotten something obvious. “Dude, you can _literally_ teleport between worlds, and you’re worried about going home?”

“It’s not working,” Kano answers, tense.

“Well if Kairi doesn’t have a star shard, I do,” Joseph continues, but Rosalina shakes her head.

“It won’t work,” she tells him, apologetic. “Now that you’re here, your usual means of transportation won’t work.”

“Aw butts,” Joseph says.

“What, so we’re trapped here!?” Kairi demands, understandably upset.

“I want to go home,” Martel declares, with a weight that draws all eyes to her. “My brother needs me,” she says simply, firmly. “I can’t _stay_ here.” Sure, her boys can probably handle themselves if left to their own devices, but they will be worried sick about her, likely tear the country apart for her, and she misses them, and they’re infinitely more important to her than… whatever this is. Is she humbled, to have stood before a being as powerful as Rosalina? Yes. Is she willing to stare a goddess down to return to her brother? Of course. She’s willing to do anything, for Mithos.

“You can all go home once this is done, I promise,” Rosalina says, and that’s… a relief, of a sort. “In fact, Alvis wanted me to assure all of you that you can be returned to exactly the moment you left, so there is nothing for you to worry about.”

That’s… also reassuring, in a way. Martel scowls, but supposes if she can get home as if she never left, maybe it’s not worth fighting Rosalina over a simple request. Depends on the request, though.

“Once what is done?” Kano demands, before Martel can think to speak herself. Kano is swiftly elbowed in the ribs by Kairi.

“What Kano means to ask is oh so politely what is it you want us to do so we can get it the hell over with and go back home?” Kairi says, her smile all teeth. “Granted, _I’m_ looking forward to a little adventure, but I wish we’d been, I dunno, given a choice?”

“Fate and the universe is just like that sometimes, though,” Joseph argues, with a nonchalant shrug.

Yeah, no, Martel would have liked a choice, too. She would have liked to fulfill this request with the help of her family, and not _some people she just met._

“It is something of a long story,” Rosalina begins. “But to shorten it a little, there is a creature… well, there are two of them, in truth. But the one we have to worry about is named Hyrí. They are… more a force of nature, at this point, determined to consume the cosmos. It was outside of my power to contain them alone, so I called for help…”

“And Alvis answered,” Meyneth says, with understanding. A _weighty_ kind of understanding, as if she knows exactly why and how he helped. Who exactly is this Alvis person, Martel wonders, and what is he that he can walk so loftily among gods? He must be like the Spirits on her world, just as Meyneth and Rosalina are, even if they go by different names.

Rosalina nods, simple and slow. “Yes, he did, and with the help of his siblings we’ve come to… a solution.”

“What does it have to do with us?” Martel asks, but Joseph just laughs at the notion.

“Oh, we probably have to kill it, right? That’s how these things always shake out,” he says, knowingly. “Dunno why you brought _us_ here instead of like, Aqua or… well I guess she probably needs her rest, huh? And Riku too, but…”

“You shouldn’t have to kill them,” Rosalina explains, and she looks sad again. “It… will depend on many things, but first we need to gather everyone. You are not the only heroes we called here.”

Joseph preens at the notion of being called a hero, while Kano shuffles uncomfortably, as if he’d rather be called anything else. Martel just scowls, weighing, judging the situation.

“How are we supposed to do that?” Kairi asks, helpfully. Martel realizes she should have probably asked that.

“We have a meeting place in mind,” Rosalina insists. “It’s just getting there will be difficult. I cannot simply send you to it; you will have to follow the paths between the worlds until you get there. There are portals, and you just need to traverse them until you reach your destination.”

“…portals?” Fiora asks, and Martel _thinks_ it’s Fiora, because her accent is vastly different than Meyneth’s is.

Rosalina nods, and then smiles a fond little smile. “They’re not very easy to detect if you don’t know what you’re looking for, but, I have someone who can help with that,” she says, and then she reaches out her hand as if for a bird or something to alight on and—and then there is a star, or rather a star-shaped blob creature, cream colored and eyes bright, and it laughs somehow though Martel cannot see a mouth, bumping its head (?? it’s entire body _is_ the head) against Rosalina’s hand, and she pats it affectionately. “This is Strella,” she introduces. “And they’ll guide you, because it isn’t fair of me to leave you alone.”

“Hi!!” Strella says, brightly. Martel stops bothering to wonder how they do that without a mouth, because _Volt_ managed just fine, too. “I’m gonna be the bestest guide ever and make Mama proud!!” they insist, and oh, how _young_ are they, Martel wonders.

“I’m already proud,” Rosalina assures them, laughing. “Just be _careful,_ alright? I trust they’ll watch after you, but…”

“It’ll be hard to grow into a big strong a planet if I get hurt,” Strella finishes, gravely.

“No, no,” Rosalina says, her eyes only for her child, cradling them in her hands. “I just _worry_ about you, is all.”

…Mother of the Cosmos, indeed.

Well. Besides that.

“If… we need a guide…” Martel asks, slowly, and it’s none of her business where gods go when they are not walking amongst mortals, but even still: “Where will you be? Not staying with us, I presume.”

Rosalina shakes her head, regretful. “No, I have other things to attend to,” she answers.

“What, _you_ can move around without these portal things?” Kano asks, bitter. “That’s not fair.”

“The rules here are different for me than for you, I’m afraid,” Rosalina says. “Believe me, if it were as easy as waving my hand and sending you all to the Observatory, I would in an instant.”

“That’s fine, that’s fine, we’ll put up with your really weird quest,” Kairi says, before Kano can think to protest more. He clearly looked like he was going to. Just like Yuan, still. “If we need to talk to you, though, uh…”

“I can handle that!!” Strella says, brightly, flying over to Kairi and spinning around her head once. “I can contact Mama anytime!”

Rosalina nods. “They can. And if you need any other help,” she makes eye-contact with Fiora again, though her following words suggest perhaps she is addressing Meyneth, “You can call for Alvis any time. I can’t imagine him not answering his mother.”

“ _Mother_?” Fiora squeaks, like this is news to her. Martel purses her lips in a tight smile, too high-strung to laugh properly but still feeling something of a need to stifle it anyway. She’s not dense enough to miss that this sounds like Meyneth has been keeping secrets.

Well, it’s not her business, except that since apparently she’s going to be traveling with this people it _is_ her business. They’ll have to sort it out, later.

“I…” Rosalina makes an expression like she might be surprised at Fiora’s surprise, and makes a decision Martel absolutely cannot blame her for. “I should go, now, sorry I can’t stay any longer,” she excuses herself. “You’ll all do fantastic. The stars will watch over you.”

And with that farewell—a promise? A threat?—Rosalina is vanishes in a glimmer of starlight. Martel finds herself breathing easier in her absence.

Joseph immediately fills the somewhat tight silence with: “Soooooooo, quest time?” He looks eagerly between everyone.

“One second, please,” Meyneth says, and then: “Alvis?” she calls experimentally into the air, turning away from the group.

Alvis appears as if he had simply been here the whole time and they just hadn’t noticed him.

He’s… appearance-wise, by all accounts, rather unassuming. There’s nothing _that_ notable about his blue coat and white pants, other than that the fashion aligns more with Joseph and his friends than Martel is particularly used to back in her own world. His silver hair—typical for elves and half-elves—registers as normal to Martel, as does the fact it’s cut well past his shoulders ( _not much longer than Kratos keeps his_ _hair_ ).

It’s not his appearance that draws Martel’s attention to him like a magnet, though.

It’s his mana—or rather, the way mana behaves around him. He stands there and it’s like the world clicks into place around him. It’s as if… as if he does not _have_ mana, but rather _is_ mana. Or… whatever it’s called, in this world, if not mana. Alvis breathes, and the world breathes with him.

Martel’s in such shock that she doesn’t really catch the words he exchanges with Meyneth right away, but when she finally tunes into the conversation:

“—the timing is,” Meyneth is saying.

“I know, Mother, I know,” Alvis assures her, his hands raised in a gesture of peace. “We can talk about it later, alright? I have something I need to get back to.”

“Alright,” Meyneth agrees, but she doesn’t look happy. “And… the others…?”

“You can see them later too, I promise,” Alvis says. “It is part of why you’re here, after all. I wanted you to meet them.” His smile is fond, if sad, and Martel gets struck by the sudden image of—Mithos, talking about the Heimdall he wishes he got to know, wishes was better. The smile on Alvis’ face is one of longing, of missed opportunities. “We will discuss it later,” Alvis insists, then. “I need to check on Shulk.”

And then he is gone. How the world keeps breathing when he is gone, Martel doesn’t know.

Meyneth looks vaguely horrified for a second, but then delight breaks across her face, and it’s Fiora who speaks: “Shulk’s here too!! That’s good to hear…” She grins, determined, and she clenches a fist before her chest. “Well! We better catch up to him, and everyone else. Maybe your friends are here, too!”

“Fuck, I hope so,” Kano whines.

Joseph elbows him. “10 munny.”

“I am not putting up with the swear jar nonsense when you’re the only one who can hold me accountable.”

Kairi laughs brightly, and even Fiora giggles into her hand. Martel is too distracted to care, much.

“Come on then!” Fiora insists. She turns to the Luma that Rosalina left with them. “Strella, right?” When they chirp in affirmation, she continues: “You’re supposed to be guiding us, sooo… Lead the way!”

“Okay!!” They circle a few times around Fiora, giggling, then start flying out of the city. “This way, this way!!” they call.

Joseph runs after them, but Kairi stops Fiora before she can.

“About Alvis,” Kairi begins. Because she’s not walking, Kano isn’t either.

“I know, I have questions too. I thought I knew who he was, but then…” She shakes her head. “I have to ask Meyneth a lot of things, but I can do that on the move. So there’s no sense standing around here!” Her tone is playful, ringing of a determination Martel knows from herself. The determination isn’t forced, but the positivity might be. Either way, Fiora deftly slides around Kairi and hurries after Joseph and their guide.

Kairi grumbles something to Kano, but Martel decides _that_ isn’t worth her time, and follows after Joseph and Fiora.

There’s a lot that’s happened within the past hour, and she’s not quite sure how to deal with it, but… So long as she gets home before her boys can miss her, that’s fine. Nothing else matters.


End file.
